Why you don't always catch your man
by LeDiz
Summary: They have nothing to do with each other, but there is definitely a reason why Smith's A-Team keep messing with the latest NCIS major case.


_**Why you don't always catch your man**_

**DISCLAIMER:** Once again, clearing out the in-progress fic folder. I loved the A-Team movie for the same reason I loved early NCIS. And the conmen characters certainly helped in both cases, too!

* * *

They didn't quite catch them.

They could have caught them, if Ziva had gone all ninja-psycho-chick on the pretty boy. They could have caught the boss, at least, if McGee had been paying more attention to him rather than the big, hulking mass of muscle beside him. They could have caught them all if the lunatic hadn't proven to be a functioning lunatic that could _fly a weapons carrier_.

But the boss-guy had been faster than McGee was expecting, and had Ziva's crazy ninja skills. The pretty boy had completely charmed Ziva into relaxing enough to look away for two seconds and then proved he could really run. And then there was the functioning lunatic that could _fly a weapons carrier_.

"Who the hell are they?" Gibbs demanded. He was a little sore over the weapons carrier. "Somebody talk to me!"

Tony opened his mouth, then closed it. Marine Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs wouldn't like it. Then he opened his mouth again, because Special Agent Gibbs was already irritated, so whatever. "Former Army Alpha-Team: Smith," he recited, as McGee brought their service records up on the plasma. "All four were dishonourably discharged during the final days of the Afghanistan war, following a black ops mission that went south. Turns out they had been set up to fail, the whole thing made to look like they were using the mission to steal… some really important thing—" He hated blacked-out reports. "—and they cleared their names a few years ago. Turns out… some rogue agent—" He really hated blacked-out reports. "—of… some agency—" He _really_ hated blacked-out reports. "—had set them up and stolen the really important thing himself. However, in order to prove that, they broke out of prison five months before their earliest parole date. They didn't like the idea of going back after they'd just proven their innocence and immediately evaded custody. Because of that, they were not reinstated and are still federal fugitives. Probie!"

McGee shot him an irritated glance before pulling a few news articles up. "Seems they now work as mercenaries, doing all the kind of stuff we do, but on a civilian level," he said, clicking through them. "And I do mean all the kind of stuff we do, boss. Murders, missing kids, espionage, stateside terrorist plots… you want it solved, they've probably done it."

"They are the best," an unfamiliar female voice stated, and they all turned to see a young and very beautiful woman standing at the end of the bullpen, flanked by two harried-looking suits. She glanced at Tony, then raised her eyebrows at Gibbs. "They specialise in the ridiculous. Captain Sousa, Army CID. Are you Special Agent Gibbs?"

"Yeah. You responsible for these idiots?" he snapped, and she frowned, shifting her weight not out of nerves, but annoyance. Tony was impressed.

"Not officially. That dubious honour goes to Colonel Decker and is not exactly a priority, given global circumstances. I am, however, considered the general liaison regarding Smith's A-Team."

"Fine. Then liaise. Tell me what these nut jobs are doing involved in my case."

She took a breath, glancing at the plasma and then around at the rest of them. Tony recognised that look, and smirked.

"You have no idea, do you?"

She just grimaced and moved into the bullpen.

* * *

They slipped out from under their fingers twice more. Ziva just kept getting charmed by Peck, and no one could anticipate Murdoch. Gibbs was starting to consider giving up on the case and going Captain Ahab on the A-Team when Tony got a call from his father and immediately knew what to do.

"Fight fire with fire," he said, and brought up the A-Team's service record photos along with their own employee IDs. "We've got four agents and four targets, all with a speciality. Leader, muscle, conman, and miscellaneous."

"Hey!" McGee cried, but Tony didn't look at him, grinning as he matched the photos.

"Boss, you need to take Smith. Ziva, you target Baracus. I'll match Peck."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes. "He's a lot younger than you, Tony."

And fitter. And a better shot while in motion. Tony nodded, his ego taking a backseat. "But I don't con easy."

And as much as he knew Ziva and McGee would whine about it when he and Gibbs couldn't hear, the fact was that everyone else on the team would be taken in by Peck. Even Gibbs would probably fall for some kind of subservient smile. Tony, on the other hand, could call bullshit. He didn't always do it, for various reasons, but he almost always knew when he was being played.

The plan worked. Ziva and Baracus were matched, muscle for speed, and she won because chivalry made the big guy refuse to take good hits when he had them. McGee got the drop on Murdoch once everyone else was engaged. Gibbs and Smith nearly beat all hell out of each other, but what Smith had in strategy, Gibbs had in close-combat, and it wasn't really a contest after that. Tony had Peck down before anyone, out-smiling and out-bullshitting him every step of the way until he had Peck in an arm-lock, with Sousa standing in front of them with a weary sigh.

"Would it kill you, Face, to just _once_ try to listen to someone other than Hannibal?" she asked. "They're navy. They don't give a damn about army crimes."

"Well, we didn't, until you kept screwing up our investigation," Tony said as he slapped the cuffs on. "We just want to talk to you, handsome."

* * *

It turned out that Peck and Sousa had history. _Lots_ of history.

"Jesus, Face, this didn't have to be such a big deal," she snapped, when she got him in an interrogation room. Tony and Gibbs were on the other side of the glass, and exchanged amused looks when the two immediately began talking over each other.

"—if you would all just get off our backs—"

"—stay out of military investigations—"

"—done enough to waive the charges—"

"—_know_ it's bullshit, Face, but it's military—"

"—pretending this is all about playing nice—"

"—checking out David like she's going to just—"

"—I'm just supposed to wait around—"

"—if you had just let yourself stay—"

"—don't think I didn't see you checking out—"

"—stop listening to your precious colonel—"

"—you think by bringing me in, Tony-boy—"

Tony shook his head, impressed. "Wow. And I thought my relationship with EJ had problems."

"It did," Gibbs said mildly, and Tony shifted but didn't respond. They listened to the tirades continue, ranging from Peck's apparent hero-worship of Smith, to Sousa's obsession with her career, to Peck wanting to sleep with Ziva while Sousa had obviously already done so with Tony (Gibbs raised an eyebrow, while Tony lifted his hands in protestation of innocence), to the fact that the A-Team couldn't pick their missions, to innocents in danger, until eventually they wound down into barely-veiled and outright sulky admissions of having missed each other.

But, even after all that, neither Gibbs or Tony wanted to bother interrogating him themselves. They both knew his type.

Tony never talked in interrogations either.

* * *

"We're not interested in holding you for escaping federal custody," Gibbs said quietly, as he sat down in front of Smith. "Personally, I think you should have just gone back, waited out the months, and worked on reinstatement afterward. But that's just me."

"My boys deserve better," Smith snarled. "They served their country. Never disobeyed an order. They didn't deserve to be locked up, and they sure as damn well don't deserve to go back."

"So you keep them on the run? Always looking over their shoulder? No friends, no family?" he asked, adding an edge of a glare to his glance.

"We are family."

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that," he muttered, and Smith narrowed his eyes. Behind the glass, Tony wondered if Smith could see the hypocrisy in Gibbs' scowl. Gibbs, however, continued as if nothing had happened. "All I want to know, Colonel, is what you have to do with Master Chief Carrel's family, and how I can get you out of my investigation."

Smith's eyes only narrowed further.

* * *

"Do you know the plastic thingies on the end of shoelaces—"

"—are called aglets," Tony said, flicking through the file.

"Their true purpose is sinister."

"You shouldn't quote cartoons that have reruns at stupid times of the morning, Captain," he said lazily. "Never know what overworked insomniac might watch them too."

Murdoch smiled, slow and curious. "You're like Facey."

"So I've been told," he said, and kicked his feet up on the table. He continued reading, all but ignoring the lunatic on the other side of the table. Despite the file, he wasn't a hundred percent convinced on the insanity yet, so he was going for apathy in regards to it, just to see the reaction.

Murdoch tickled at his bottom lip, watching Tony with sharp eyes. But before he could say anything, Ziva walked in and ripped the file from Tony's hands to slap it on the table, then leaned over it.

"You are in Washington DC to help a family escape a hit placed on them by a South African crime family," she said shortly. "Rachael Henry, the sister of Master Chief Carrel, is somehow related to this family. You will tell me how."

Tony laced his fingers over his stomach and watched Murdoch in vague interest. The sharp eyes flicked between that vagueness and Ziva's sharp irritation, the tiny smile growing a little.

"My professors, back in high school—"

"Don't usually have professors in high school," Tony noted, but Murdoch just winked.

"—they used to say that when you mixed acid and a base, you get nothin'. I always figured that was why Los Diablo said no, but I'm seein' it now and you ain't neutralised, no you ain't."

Ziva twitched, angry, and Tony tilted his head in interest.

"You mix acid with a base and you get N-C-I-S," Murdoch spelled it all out with a giggle. "I can't wait to tell Facey. He'll be able to get us off with that!"

"Ohh, I get it," Tony said, and grinned at Ziva. "Acid. Army CID. He's saying you're like Sousa."

"Not quite," she said, and went around the table. Murdoch was still giggling, and continued to do so even as she kicked his chair out from under him and slammed her boot down beside his head. "I am not so patient."

As they probably should have expected, that only made Murdoch start babbling. Tony sighed and wondered if this was why Fornell hated him so much.

* * *

Baracus looked confused when McGee sat down in front of him. Honestly, no one on the other side of the glass could blame him, but they also knew better.

McGee flicked through the folder a few times, then looked up, folded his hands over it, and started talking.

McGee had this way about him, when he interrogated. It wasn't what he said – he didn't use any tricks of language, or half-truths, or intimidation. He would just tell it like it was. He would recite facts, ask questions, and everything would be very by-the-book and honest. But it was the way he said it. He was utterly bland, banal, and occasionally bored. It put a lot of people off-guard, especially if they'd been interrogated before. It was also a little bit terrifying. It made you feel like he was just going through the motions, because he already had everything he needed; he just needed to cross the Ts and dot the Is.

Against someone like Baracus, who was too… pure to suspect… it was perfect.

They were trying to get the Samwright family North, to Canada, because David Samwright had made the mistake of saying no to a South African drug runner named Marian. They'd already lost two cousins who tried to protect them. Rachael Henry was another cousin, who had called in a favour from her brother to try and protect them.

It was only peripherally connected to their case, because Petty Office Master Chief Carrel had been talking to a mercenary friend about helping out the Samwrights when one of the mercenary's old enemies opened fire on them.

Officially, NCIS had no reason to hold them, and the Samwrights were far out of their jurisdiction. But also officially, they were required to notify Army CID that they had the A-Team in custody. So far, they had avoided it so they could avoid the inter-agency bullshit, and Sousa hadn't quite gotten around to it, because it was becoming pretty damn obvious she had something to do with them evading custody in general. Officially, they were supposed to detain her and her men, too.

Tony looked to Gibbs.

* * *

Tony shook hands with Metro, Gibbs and Fornell bid each other goodbye in their usual snarky fashion, and McGee and Ziva accidentally left a key just out of believable reaching distance of Smith's cell.

Sousa was watching the last of the drug-runners' men get bundled into federal transport when Tony stepped up beside her, and she spared him a small smile. "Tells Gibbs I said thanks."

"What, no love for me?"

"You wouldn't have let them go."

He raised an eyebrow, and she inclined her head, gazing out from under her eyebrows. "You're one of those old school, black and white, the law is the law cops. And I have to say, a girl could get to appreciate a man like that," she said wistfully, and he turned to her with an inviting smirk. She rolled her eyes and turned back to the view. "But I know your type, Agent DiNozzo. You'd jump off a bridge if your CO told you to."

"I've been known to go against him," he said, half-sulking, and she chuckled, both of them knowing exactly how often that happened. After a moment, he looked at her from the corner of his eye again. "That what happened with your Lieutenant?"

"Face? Ohh… no, not really. I ran out."

"_You_ did?"

She smiled again, folding her arms under her chest. "But even if I hadn't… You know, Face would have waited out prison. Done the whole nine yards, then walked away from it and the army and started over. But Hannibal broke him out first," she said, and Tony tilted his head to better appreciate the sudden sharpness in the way she looked and moved. She almost looked like Jeanne. She let out a breath through her teeth. "Even if I wasn't a career hound, and he wasn't a conman… there will always be Hannibal Smith."

"The boss," Tony translated, and she nodded once.

"They're all like that. It's why they'll always be running. But Face has it the worst."

He considered. Thought of Jeanne and EJ and how tired he was of playing games. "Dunno, Captain… give it time and a way out…?" He offered a smile. "Retirement's a long way off."

"For both of us," she agreed, and then took a breath and turned to give him a salute. "Thank you for your help, Special Agent DiNozzo."

"Any time, Captain," he said, and watched her walk away, following where her A-Team took her next. "Hope you catch your man."

She waved over her shoulder, and they left it at that.

* * *

_And so will I. See you on the next blue moon!_


End file.
